


Holy Relics

by ButterflyGhost



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 12:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: Ma Vecchio leaves a gift for her children.





	Holy Relics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ride_Forever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride_Forever/gifts).



_ Dear Benny. _

 

_ I know you’ll have heard the news by the time you get this letter. You’ll probably hear before I finish it, but I need to write it anyway. I’ll talk to you tonight, or maybe tomorrow, when I can speak without crying. Not sure I can even speak at all, if I can get any words out now. Everything’s choked up. It’s like I have a fist in my throat.  _

 

_ Sorry. _

 

_ You know Ma loved you, right? I mean, you were the big buff Canadian son she never had. She never cooked a meal you didn’t eat seconds and thirds of, you spoke Italian (with a terrible accent) sang like an angel, and you never made a move on Frannie. Though maybe Ma would have liked to make it official and have you as a son-in-law. Thank God you don’t swing that way, Frannie would have driven you crazy. Crazier. Whatever, the thing is, crazy or not, Ma loved you. _

 

_ So. This thing here that I’m sending you, you’ve seen it before. You saw Ma praying with it. You know Ma, she was always praying for somebody. In a way that’s something she left you. Her prayers. When she knew she was on short time she had these made up - five of them for, you know, obvious reasons. Of course it was five. We all get one. You, me, Frannie, Maria, Kowalski. Yeah, don't worry, I’ll talk to him about it when I can speak. He was raised Catholic too, so he’ll get it. _

 

_ Anyway, about a billion years ago, on Ma’s wedding day, her Ma and Pa gave her a gift. Wouldn’t look like much if you didn’t know, just some wooden rosary beads, but the wood came from olive trees in Gethsemane. And I know sometimes when they say that kind of thing it’s a line of bull, but she had a certificate came with it, from a bunch of nuns in the convent next door to the garden. The ones who made it. It was dated and numbered and everything. What with me being a detective and all I checked into it for her. Yeah, it really was authentic wood from the Garden of Olives. A Holy Relic.  _

 

_ Now, I know that looks like superstition, maybe it is, well, yeah, of course it is - but it meant a lot to Ma. I’d have lied and told her it was kosher even if it wasn’t (kosher, yeah, I know, not the best word choice) but I was really glad for her when it panned out. Every time she prayed with those beads she felt like she was there in the garden with Him. You know when people talk about loving Jesus, usually they’re running for political office. Ma didn’t ever say it, but you could see it in her, everything she did. The priests never made me love Him. In the end Ma did. Because I could see how comforted she was at the end, so sure that she’d meet Him. You’ve got to love someone who makes your Ma so happy on her deathbed, even if maybe He is just her imaginary friend. I still don't know. But I am glad she did. _

 

_ Sorry. This letter is going to be a bit blotchy, but I’m not rewriting it. Don’t think I’ve got the strength. Besides, you understand. Life leaves its stains, doesn’t it? We both know that. Tears and blood and all that stuff. When I was a kid these beads weren’t nearly as dark as they are now. Wooden beads get darker the more you pray with them, did you know that? Ma prayed a lot. I got no idea how many prayers got caught in these beads, but it’s like all her hopes and fears and prayers are still in them somehow. You know, like with a wind chime, the vibrations don’t stop when the wind does. There’s always echoes. And, that’s what she’s gifting you - us - with. The grease of her fingertips darkening wood, the echoes of her prayers. _

 

_ Here they are, anyway, your beads now. Don’t know which Mystery you are. Never did, Benny. Right now I’m in the Sorrowful, in the Garden, with Ma and her Saviour. Ma would tell me to hang in there for the Glorious. I’m wearing my decade now, thinking about Ma, thinking about you and Kowalski, me and Maria and Frannie, thinking how much she loved us all. I’m thinking of when I’m next up North, hoping you’ll know now, finally believe, that she accepted you, everything about you. I know you blame yourself for things in the past, things you might have done differently. I know you think she blamed you. _

 

_ Thing about Ma - she was the great forgiver in our family. We’re a family with a lot that needs to be forgiven. But you? She knew there was nothing to forgive. You hear that, Benny? Nothing to forgive. Thing is - if Ma loved someone she just loved them. And I believe, I really do believe, that she loves us still. That when we wear these beads she’s still got her arms around us, that her prayers are still with us.  _

 

_ Benny, I know men don’t say this kind of thing to each other. Don’t think I’ve ever said it, not in words anyway. But I do love you. Always did. I hope you wear this, I hope Kowalski wears his. Anytime I pray on these beads those prayers are offered up for you too. Both of you.  _

 

_ That’s it, all I can say right now. Hope you can read my writing, hope it’s enough. We’ll have spoken before you get this, and I know you’ll make me feel better. You always do, when you’re not being the most annoying man in the world. Even then. And I’ll see you soon.  _

 

_ Love, Ray. _

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be posted as a gift fic for Ride at Christmas, but life and lost property got in the way. Sorry, Ride. (Also, strange choice of gift fic I know, but sometimes weird happens with my muse.)
> 
> By the way, I feel the need to make it clear that I am not trying to push a religious viewpoint on anyone with this story. Around Christmas I nursed a lovely lady who passed away, and this story is the result. It is an expression of Ma and Ray's faith in the face of death, not more or less. 
> 
> Thanks are due to Bluehaven for beta, and for keeping schtum this last six months. 
> 
> And Ride, the tangible tie-in is coming.


End file.
